


Lie to Me

by meth_breath



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Angst, Barebacking, Bisexual Harry, Bottom Louis, Briana mention, Canon Compliant, D/s, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Sexting, Snowballing, Straight!Louis, Top Harry, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Abuse, Very slight dub-con, an inexcusable amount of heterosexuality, copious amounts of cum-eating, mention of panties, mention of toys, only not really bc Louis likes it, operating under the assumption that Freddie Tommo is real, past Harry/OFC - Freeform, white boys being uneducated about sexual orientation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meth_breath/pseuds/meth_breath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is straight, but he might be a little bit gay for his best friend. <i>Former</i> best friend. (Featuring oblivious boys and dirty talk so filthy it went straight to DVD.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [loudippedincaramel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/loudippedincaramel/pseuds/loudippedincaramel) for looking this over. Lova ya, babe! <3

Louis is bored. Bored, bored, bored. He originally thought he might go out onto the veranda for some pleasant scenery when he had accidentally woken at 6am, but his growling tummy and need for a wash had him missing the sunrise. Now it’s ten. Too early for much of anything but staring at the telly and hating himself. This break was supposed to be _relaxing_ , but not so relaxing that it was actually stressful. If that made any sense. Fuck.

 

He had spent the first month of the break high on the freedom. Making plans almost every day, catching up with his mum and sisters, wanking loudly in his big empty house. But as is with most things, it got old. Louis had become used to the feeling of accomplishing things near constantly, and he felt a bit empty without it. Of course, now he had a son, and _wow_ . He had a fucking _son._ But the whole thing’s a bit of a mess at the moment what with baby mamma playing him like a fiddle and only allowing Louis visitation once a week.

 

With a sigh, he lifts himself from the dent he’s made in the couch, and grabs his favorite jacket from the coat rack. A walk would do him some good.

 

It’s as he’s locking up and waving a hello to his sweet little old neighbor that he feels a buzz in his pocket. He waits until he’s out of the gate to his community to look, though. It’s Liam and Louis couldn’t be more relieved.

 

**_meet @ yours in 20? Have a song idea_ **

 

Louis figures that’s enough time to grab a tea at the local Starbucks, so he does just that.

 

By the time he’s made his way back, he feels much more alive than he did an hour ago, the pleasant chill of the wind and the caffeine having soothed him. He’s basking in it when he feels another buzz in his pocket. _Impatient Liam._

 

But the text isn’t from Liam, it’s from Harry, which. Weird. He hasn’t spoken to Harry in the whole month they’ve been off, and the last time he did speak to him it was all formal goodbyes. Not a trace left of how close they used to be.

 

 **_Busy today?_ ** it reads.

 

While Louis is deciding how to reply, he catches sight of Liam’s car in the drive.

 

He types a quick **_kind of_ ** , turns his phone to silent and immediately goes to chat to Liam like it might help him to forget that Harry’s said anything.

 

“Alright mate?”

 

Liam smiles his excited smile through his rolled down car window.

 

“Amazing. You’re gonna flip when your hear this.”

 

“Lay it on me,” he quips, leading Liam back up to his condo.

 

They’re approximately halfway through Write and Chill when Louis remembers his locked phone. Liam is preoccupied listening to a melody he brought with him, both ears muted with headphones.

 

He looks down to see that Harry’s texted again.

 

**_Why’re you avoiding me?_ **

 

Okay, that’s fucking rich coming from someone who hasn’t bothered to even send him a life sign in 32 days.

 

 **_I could ask you the same question_ ** , he replies.

 

H: **_There’s a difference between not calling and avoiding._ **

 

L: **_You’re full of shit_ **

 

H: **_I’m sorry :(_ **

 

L: **_You better be_ **

 

H: **_So what’re you busy with?_ **

 

L: **_Liam’s over_ **

 

H: **_ah okay, let me know when you’re alone again_ **

 

Louis’ eyes widen. What the fuck even. Curious, Louis tries to hurry the rest of the session, and if Liam notices, he doesn’t say anything. There is a cryptic “have you heard from Harry?” but Louis figures he’ll get to the bottom of that quite soon anyway.

 

He reaches back into his pocket for his phone and figures _fuck it_ , and just calls Harry.

 

Harry picks up, but Louis cuts him off before he can say anything.

 

“I’m alone now, you creeper.”

 

Harry laughs and it hurts a bit how familiar yet unfamiliar that sound is.

 

“I’m back in London.”

 

And yeah, Louis figured. There’s no way Harry would take the time out of his busy partying and schmoozing schedule to call Louis if he was still in L.A.

 

“And?” Louis inquires meanly, but it’s okay because Harry deserves it.

 

Assumedly ignoring Louis’ tone, Harry continues. “And I want to hang out.”

 

“Hang out?”

 

“Something wrong with that?”

 

“Well, it’s not like you, Hazza.” The nickname slips out before Louis can stop it.

 

“Sure it is,” Harry replies simply, and easy as that they have a meet up scheduled for that upcoming Saturday.

 

***

 

Nothing is ever actually that easy.

 

As if things aren’t weird enough, he gets another text from Harry the very next day.

 

 **_Whatre you wearing_ ** , it reads, and cripes, isn’t it kind of early for that kind of thing?

 

**_Think you sent that to the wrong person mate_ **

 

**_I really, really didn’t._ **

 

Louis rolls his eyes. Why now? Harry’s always been a cheeky little shit, play-flirting with Louis since the moment they met, but it’s not funny anymore. Not since their friendship had become nothing more than a blur of memories and the feeling of ice in his stomach.

 

The thing is, Louis had always assumed it was going somewhere. That one day they were gonna get just that right amount of drunk and finally have it off with each other. But it had never happened, and Louis stopped waiting for it a long time ago. He didn’t really get it, either, and it accounts for some of his bitterness. Harry had never been shy about being bisexual, and even though Louis had never been open about his own sexuality and considered himself straight for the most part, Harry should have known. Known that, back then, Louis would have been down for pretty much anything, as long as it was Harry. He didn’t think he could have been any more obvious.

 

To be completely honest, he really never stopped being up for it. Louis would have thought his feelings would fade after Harry had grown five inches taller than him and became altogether more manly, which _yuck_ , right? But it was Harry, and Louis was surprised to learn that the idea of Harry being bigger than him didn’t turn him off the way it should. That is was actually kind of exciting.

 

He shook himself of his reverie, and returned to the conversation.

 

 ** _What’re_** **you** ** _wearing??_**

 

And okay, Louis never claimed that he didn’t have his own streak of cheek. HA! He’d have to tell Liam about his sweet rhyming skills later.

 

He gets a response not two seconds later.

 

**_I’m naked_ **

 

 _Of course he is,_ Louis thinks. When is Harry not naked?

 

**_Of course you are_ **

 

**_Heyyyyy_ **

 

Louis smiles fondly without his permission just as Harry sends another message.

 

H: **_So you never answered my question_ **

 

L: **_Do you ACTUALLY want to know what i’m wearing_ **

 

H: **_Duh_ **

 

L: **_uh okay... some sweatpants and a t-shirt_ **

 

H: **_is it a scoop neck?_ **

 

L: **_A what?_ **

 

H: **_You know, those shirts that show off your collar bones?_ **

 

L: **_Er, i guess so_ **

 

H: **_You should send me a pic ;)_ **

 

Louis sighs.

 

L: **_why’re you doing this?_ **

 

H: **_because i miss you,_ ** Harry says, like it’s that simple.

 

L: **_we’re hanging out tomorrow harry. You can wait_ **

 

H: **_i’m touching myself._ **

 

Christ. Louis throws his iPhone across the room, not giving one fuck if he’s broken it, and tries his hardest to go the rest of the day without masturbating to the thought. It almost works.

 

***

 

Part of him thought that Harry wasn’t gonna show after the awkwardness that was that text, but another part of him is very much not surprised at Harry’s lack of shame.

 

What he _is_ surprised about is the amount of detail Harry’s currently going into.

 

“And her arse was, like, phenomenally tight.”

 

And it’s not like Harry isn’t a serial over-sharer regardless, but it’s been ages since they’ve said more than _please, thank you, you’re mic needs turned up_ to each other. There’s also the glaring fact that Harry was trying to  _sext_ him last night. It was most likely a joke gone too far, but Louis had _hoped._ And now, with all the crassness of a Tarantino flick, Harry’s going on about some chick’s ass and pussy like it’s perfectly normal and not completely inappropriate.

 

“Her name was Cerulean.” And leave it to Harry for finding a _name_ sexy. “But Lea for short. Isn’t that _cool_ , Louis?”

 

Louis hates himself for kind of getting off on it. Harry with this girl, Harry using that _voice_ , Harry using words like _cunt_ and _slick_ and _cum_.

 

“Is this why you came over here?” Louis asks, the leather of the couch squeaking as he rises to stretch his legs. “To tell me about this girl?”

 

“No.” Harry at least does him the courtesy of looking sheepish. “I came to see you. I can stop talking about it if you want.”

 

Louis in equal parts wants him to stop and keep going.

 

“It’s okay,” he lies. “I’m just glad you’re having fun.”

 

“And what about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Are you having fun?”

 

“I mean...” Louis thinks about it. Is he having fun? Not particularly. “Yeah. The baby’s great.”

 

“Not the kind of fun I’m talking about.”

 

“You’ll understand when you’re older, young Harold.”

 

“What, when I’m 24 like you?”

 

“Maybe earlier if you keep having unprotected sex on the reg.” There’s a bite to Louis’ tone, and Harry fights back.

 

“Coming from you?” Harry laughs, and it’s nothing like his open, jovial laugh the other day on the phone. It’s cold. Bitter.

 

“Touche,” Louis says because he really doesn’t have it in him to have this conversation.

 

Harry seems to calm slightly at the word, and lifts himself from the loveseat to stand next to Louis at the small juice bar.

 

“I miss you,” Harry says, repeating his sentiment from last night.

 

For some reason, Louis flushes at that.

 

“I—I miss you too.”

 

They make eye contact for way too long, and everything about Harry is honey. Or maybe molasses, he moves and talks so slow. Whatever it is, it’s a dark sweet liquid that settles warmly into his veins and makes his mouth water. He sees something in Harry’s eyes, something he’s seen countless times during the X-Factor and their first year together. It’s the thing that made Louis think they’d fall into bed together, the thing that gave him hopes that Harry eventually crushed.

 

He ends their staring contest at the reminder, and settles into making some drinks at the bar. Harry follows his lead and goes to the fridge to retrieve the Biscoff cookie cheesecake he’s brought over.

 

They eat and drink in silence, accompanied by an episode of ‘The Only Way is Essex’ until the alcohol finally loosens their jaws.

 

“Are you upset that I have a son?” Louis asks pointedly, only slightly regretting having said the words.

 

Harry suddenly looks very serious.

 

“How could you even ask that? You know I love kids.” And yeah, Louis remembers.

 

“Then why do you stop me whenever I talk about it?” It’s been bothering him for ages, is the only reason he asks. Not because he’s hopeful that Harry might be jealous. Hopeful that Harry might be bitter that he has a family now when they never even got a chance to see if there was anything between them.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

 

Louis’ positive it’s the booze that’s responsible for the hopeful surge he feels as he takes a deep breath.

 

“No.”

 

“It’s because I haven’t got to meet him, Louis,” he says, and _oh_. And while it’s not necessarily what he was hoping for as a response, it’s not too disappointing.

 

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

 

“Because I thought it was obvious! You know how much I love babies, and I haven’t seen so much as a picture that wasn’t one of the ones circulating online.”

 

Louis’ heart kind of aches at that. He wasn’t intentionally keeping Freddie from Harry, none of the boys aside from Liam had even met him yet.

 

“I’m sorry, Hazza. You’ll meet him, I promise.” Louis means it. Can’t wait to introduce them.

 

“’Swhy I was avoiding you,” Harry slurs, apparently more gone than Louis had thought, and looking on the verge of tears.

 

“So you _were_ avoiding me?”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Louis comforts. He means that too.

 

Harry nods, and Louis is relieved when that seems to be the end of the serious talk for the night.

 

He and Harry play a drinking game to the telly, taking a generous sip every time someone curses, and they get stupidly pissed.

 

It’s fun, and the warmth of Harry pressed to his side is familiar and welcome.

 

They retire to the master bedroom a few hours later, still giggly drunk but fucking exhausted.

 

Louis’ about to fall into what promises to be some A-grade sleep when he hears it.

 

It’s a moan. Louis figures maybe Harry’s just really comfortable, but then Louis hears the sound again and it’s unmistakable. Harry’s wanking. In the same bed as him. Right fucking _next to him._

 

He’s not so drunk that his heart doesn’t start to beat faster and harder.  He _is_ so drunk, though, that he doesn’t question when his own cock starts fattening against the tightness of his jeans.

 

 _Why_ did he decide to go to bed in his day clothes?!

 

It’s then that he feels the bed move, and it’s surprisingly not from the motion of Harry’s hand. Rather, Harry is full-on humping the bed, causing the whole thing to rock and squeak. There’s no way he doesn’t realize Louis’ still awake, as it’s been mere minutes since they laid down. And even if Louis _had_ been asleep, the forcefulness of Harry’s movements definitely would have woken him.

 

Harry must not care, Louis thinks, and it’s that thought that has him unzipping his jeans as quietly and inconspicuously as possible.

 

He’s too tipsy to feel much regret right now, especially with the calloused feeling of his small hand on his thick dick. Harry makes another noise, continuing to fuck the duvet like it’s his damn job, and Louis feels close already.

 

Aside from the rocking of the bed, this scenario isn’t terribly unfamiliar. Back when they were five teenagers with only one bus and not enough money for hotels every night, it was not uncommon to hear one of the others wanking. Hell, it wasn’t even unheard of for two or more of them to beat off at the same time. Weirdly enough, Louis kind of misses that. When they could write it off as simply being horny young boys who could never get a minute to themselves. Completely uncomplicated fun. None of them ever really talked about it either, ignoring that time that he and Zayn got so high they started making fun of how loud Harry always got when he came.

 

It’s anything but funny now, as Louis strokes himself so hard and fast that he must be contributing somewhat to the unsteadiness of the bed at this point.

 

It’s been so long, and this is so fucking hot that Louis throws any sense of dignity he has left out the window and lets out the high whine he’s been holding in for ages.

Harry stops thrusting very suddenly and Louis panics. He doesn’t have long to worry though.

 

“Louis?” Harry grunts, and fuck, his voice sounds _wrecked._

 

“Yeah?” he answers, his voice thankfully sounding a lot less scared than he actually is.

 

“Are you touching yourself?”

 

A deep intake of breath.

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry says and he resumes the pistoning of his hips into the soft of the bed, and it’s maybe the hottest thing ever.

 

Louis doesn’t bother being quiet anymore, resuming stroking himself with the dirty wet sound of his precum ringing in his ears.

 

When he comes, it’s because Harry has wrapped his leg around Louis’ and makes a particularly deep grunt right in his ear.

 

When it happens, he feels Harry turn over on his back, quickly re-establishing their bodily contact and starting to actually jerk himself.

 

Louis whimpers, and he thinks he might cry when he feels the splatter of come hit his thigh, warm and sticky.

 

“Louis,” Harry breathes out with his last stroke, riding out the aftershocks.

 

Louis waits for Harry’s breathing to even out before he reaches out into the still-wet cum on his skin. He sucks on his fingers lazily and falls into an easy sleep, the taste still in his mouth.

 

***

 

Harry is a bit uncomfortable. Both physically and mentally, with cum drying under his chinos and a deep regret that he can feel in his hands that makes want to wash them. Or shake them violently until he can rid them of some invisible uncleanliness.

 

He can’t believe he let himself go like that. He had refrained for years with only minimal complication, and yet he chooses now?

 

He knows Louis is straight. Has known it since Louis had told him in only the second week they knew each other, right after Harry had done his own coming out. That fact never stopped him from thinking about Louis, though, the feminine curl to his eyelashes and curve of his waist. The control he displayed to the public and the vulnerability he showed behind closed doors. But more than anything, he valued their friendship and so he never acted on it.

 

Until last night.

 

Well he didn’t really act on it, per se, but there’s a really thin line between fucking someone versus fucking your hand right next to them with their name on your lips.

 

He’s still distracted when he pulls into the familiar drive in front of his old home in Holmes Chapel. Harry hopes the scent of his mother’s perfume and the feeling of Dusty’s fur against his palm will soothe him some.

 

Usually when he’s feeling unstable, he calls Nick, but not about this. There’s literally no one in the world he can talk to about this, because he’s fucking contracted not to.

 

His mum greets his surprise visit with a smile that covers her whole face. Harry might make a lot of stupid decisions but coming here is never one of them.

 

Harry thanks his lucky stars that his mum knows when not to ask questions. That she gives him the love and reassurance and home-cooked meal without ever digging too deep.

 

He’s already had a cry into Anne’s arms and two bowls of messy Shepherd’s pie after an hour of being there, and he envisions a life where he could stay here forever.

 

The whole thing falls apart by evening though, when he’s brushing his teeth in preparation for sleep. He had never turned off his phone, instead having opted to leave it in his childhood bedroom. He’s met with a slew of notifications when he finally manages to check it, scrolling drowsily and hiding under the covers like he did when he was a child, the blue of the screen the only light.

 

He’s got 1,000 some twitter mentions, but it’s not any higher than usual, so he vows to check them more thoroughly in the morning. He’s also got a text from Cal, two texts from Niall, and—16 missed calls from Louis. His feels his heart beating in his throat. He was really hoping they could forget about this whole thing, but he supposes that was wishful thinking.

 

He doesn’t call Louis back but he does listen to the one voicemail he’s left only fifteen minutes ago.

 

“Harryyyyy,” he hears Louis’ high raspy voice wail, and shit. Louis is definitely drunk. “Call me back, you wanker.” The voicemail goes on for a bit longer like Louis forgot to hang up the phone, but eventually the lines goes dead, the static replaced by the loud thump of the blood in his veins.

 

Much too chicken shit to call back, he tries (and mostly fails) to get some rest.

 

***

 

“I’m leaving, Mum,” he says, his voice too quiet for this time of day and his eyes a bit watery.

 

“Aw, sweetums.”

 

She hugs him as though her life depends on it and he is just so, so grateful.

 

By midday, he’s already back at his flat in London and ringing Ed in hopes of a distraction.

 

It’s worked spectacularly, he thinks, as he digs into his curry, cheeks aching from laughter at Ed’s story about the drunk guy who had climbed on stage at one of his concerts and told the ginger man he was in love with him.

 

It only lasts until Ed begs off around 8, though, promising it’s because he has to get up at a ridiculous hour.

 

Then Harry’s left in the ear-splitting silence of his flat with nothing but his thoughts. Figuring he’s got to bite the bullet at some point, though, he texts Louis.

 

**_Hey_ **

 

He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply.

 

**_Hey_ **

 

Harry supposes he deserves having to be the one to pry it out of Louis after ignoring him like he did yesterday.

 

 **_We should probably talk_ ** , Harry finally decides on.

 

**_Ugh do we have to?_ **

 

**_Thought you wanted to_ **

 

**_Yeah but I want a lot of things when I’m wasted_ **

 

The statement stings in its double meaning.

 

**_Come over? We don’t have to talk I just want to see you_ **

 

**_No_ **

 

**_Why?? I’m offended_ **

 

**_no surprises there, i’m a pretty offensive person_ **

 

**_True_ **

 

**_Heyyyyy_ **

 

Harry smiles at Louis’ use of his token phrase.

 

**_that’s my line_ **

 

**_not anymore_ **

 

**_So you coming or what_ **

 

**_I guess, Curly. If I must_ **

 

Harry counts it as a win, until--

 

**_There, I’m done cumming. I’ll talk to you tomorrow_ **

 

Harry gapes. He’s not sure if he wants Louis to be joking or not.

 

***

 

When Harry wakes in the morning, he does not expect it to be to a ten second video of Louis cumming onto his hand and then opening himself three-fingers wide using the cum as lube.

 

Louis was decidedly _not_ joking about having came, then.

 

Harry has to wank three times to get out of bed. And even then, he’s still horny. He’s a shaking mess for most of the day, and he can’t tell if he wants Louis to make good on his promise to come over or not. He’s torn between the equally appealing prospects of hiding and fucking Louis until he forgets how to speak English.

 

When Louis does show up, Harry’s already three sheets to the wind, two bottles of red wine in him and baking to calm his nerves. French bread pizza makes everything better.

 

“Come iiiiiin,” he sings drunkenly.

 

“I can’t you tit, the door’s locked,” and oh yay, it’s _Louis_. His most favorite-ist person. Harry’s, like, 75% sure that’s a word. He’s still pondering about it when a second knock comes.

 

“Are you actually not going to let me in?”

 

Oh _yeah_. The door.

 

He wipes his hands clean of flour the best he can manage and goes to open the door.

 

“You’re fucked,” is the first thing Louis says, and wow, were his lips always this _pretty_ ? Speaking of pretty, he’s also got this cute as fuck pixie nose, and Harry doesn’t even know what that _means._ Like, who the fuck even has a cute _nose?_

 

“No,” Harry hears himself say. “You’re fucked. Gonna be. Gonna fuck you hard.”

 

“ _Christ_. How are you even cooking when you’re this gone?”

 

He feels Louis’ tiny hand at his shoulder and yes. They’re gonna bang.

 

He’s confused though when Louis ushers him to the couch instead of the bed.

 

“Stay there. I’m gonna get you some water.”

 

Next thing he knows, there’s a cool Evian being pushed into his numb hands. He looks up to see Louis looking at him like a concerned parent might. Which no, Harry is not a kid.

 

“’M not a kid,” he mumbles.

 

He feels the dip of the couch as Louis sits next to him but not nearly close enough.

 

Louis rakes his eyes over him. “No, you’re certainly not.”

 

When Harry comes to, he doesn’t remember how he got into bed, or how he got changed into pajamas, or anything at all really.

 

“Morning, sleepy head.”

 

“More like _hurt_ head,” and it’s not his cleverest comeback, but in his defense, Harry did only just realize where he was. And his head _does_ hurt.

 

“So about the video,” Louis says casually and come _on,_ it’s way too fucking early for this level of bluntness.

 

“What video?”

 

“Don’t play dumb, Harry,” Louis responds, but there is an edge of uncertainty to his voice.

 

“Okay,” Harry concedes, hoping his blush isn’t too obvious.

 

“I meant to send that to someone else.”

 

 _Really?_ How dare Louis accuse him of lying and then lie right to Harry’s face.

 

Something in Louis must break though, because he looks down ashamedly and mutters something.

 

“What's that?”

 

“I said that I did mean to send it to you.” Louis still doesn’t make eye contact.

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“And why on Earth would you be sorry?”

 

Louis startles at this, looks up through his caramel fringe in confusion.

 

“Because you don’t want me like that.” He says it likes it’s obvious and Harry’s heart breaks in two.

 

He’s woken up only ten minutes ago, his breath is still stale and his hair is a wreck. He’s not ready for sad Louis. Might not ever be, if he’s honest.

 

“Do you have any idea how many times I came while watching that?”

 

Louis lets out a gasp, checking Harry’s eyes for sincerity.

 

“I didn’t even know you’d ever done butt stuff.”

 

Louis cracks at that.

 

“ _Butt stuff?_ Oh my God I cannot believe you just said that.”

 

Louis laughs hysterically. Suddenly and magnificently, the dam breaks.

 

***

 

Harry finally gets to meet Freddie on a sunny Tuesday morning. The baby looks up at him as though trying to figure him out, and Harry can’t help but pop the dimples, he’s so damn _cute._ And better yet, he’s Louis’ baby, a miniature Louis who drinks from a tit and poos himself. He can’t get enough.

 

Freddie is pulling delightedly at Harrys hair when Louis asks him.

 

“So are we gonna actually have sex or....?”

 

“Oh my God! Little ears, Louis, little ears!” He covers Freddie’s indeed very little ears with his massive hands.

 

Louis’ looks at him like he’s water in the desert. It’s probably extremely inappropriate to be getting this aroused while holding a baby, so he sets the little guy back down in his rocker.

 

“About that...”

 

“Yes?” Louis asks, looking unsure as though Harry could ever say no to him.

 

“I thought you were straight.”

 

“I am. Is _that_ why it took you so long?!”

 

“What? I—I don’t get it.”

 

“Me neither really, but I really want you inside of me.”

 

_Shit._

 

He can’t drive Freddie back to Brianna’s mother’s house fast enough.

 

***

 

When they get back, they’re both already worked up, sweaty already even in the AC.

 

“You’re wearing that kind of shirt that I like,” Harry drawls, pressing his fingers into the jut of Louis’ collar bone.

 

“I know.”

 

They’re kissing then, and it’s such a long time coming that Harry can’t help but laugh. And Louis’ laughing too. They don’t stop until Harry has the sense to open the bedside drawer.

 

He finds exactly what he’s looking for, grabbing hold of a giant canister of lube but also finding.... a dildo. And. Is that _panties_? Fuck.

 

Louis blushes, but says nothing. He grabs the condom Harry was about to rip open and tosses it.

 

“Fuck me bare, I wanna feel it.”

 

Louis’ voice is quiet but very obviously turned on, and really, Harry never stood a chance.

 

“God, you’re fucking hot.”

 

Louis blushes some more, and it just figures that in-control, competitive Louis would go so fucking beautifully lax and submissive in bed. Harry’s cock flexes.

 

“Have you ever done this before?” Harry wonders, already knowing the answer.

 

“No you dipshit, I told you I’m straight.”

 

“Don’t seem very straight to me.”

 

“Well I’m really fucking gay for you.”

 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say, and Harry shakes his head at this whole situation, not wanting to wake up.

 

Harry teases dryly at Louis’ hole, and the noise Louis makes has him bending down on the bed to get his mouth on that plush arse.

 

Louis gets even louder at that, whimpers high and hot in the quiet of the bedroom. Harry shoves his whole face into the cleft of Louis’ ass, and this is definitely what heaven feels like.

 

He gives him a few teasing swipes up and down with his dripping tongue, but Louis is having none of it, gripping his head tightly and pushing, pushing, _pushing_ until Harry can’t breathe. Now this is the greedy and domineering Louis Harry knows and he moans into Louis’ ass, loving this just as much as Lou’s subby side.

 

He starts really giving it to him, plunging his tongue in and out of Louis’ tight pink hole. Well tries to anyway, it’s a bit difficult with the way Louis’ humping back onto his face.

 

 _Sit on me,_ he thinks, but he vows to save that for next time. Right now all he wants is to get inside Louis’ tight heat. He leaks just thinking about it.

 

It feels like ages before Louis’ grip on his head weakens, but he takes the opportunity for what it is, quickly opening the lube and slicking up two fingers.

 

Louis gasps as Harry stretches his nice little entrance, already loosened up some from where Harry had his mouth.

 

Harry looks straight into Louis’ dilated pupils as he crooks his fingers directly into his prostate. Louis’ eyes flutter closed and he cums untouched onto his soft little belly. Not bothering to remove his digits, Harry acts just quick enough to catch the last bits of sperm in his drooling wet mouth, swallowing hungrily.

 

“Nnnnnngh.”

 

Louis’  crying and Harry means to ask if he’s okay but he slips in a third finger instead. Louis moans his loudest yet, and yeah, Louis’ okay.

 

“I wanna fuck your mouth,” Harry growls.

 

“ _Please_.”

 

Harry removes his fingers slowly, Louis’ hole clenching down on nothing.

 

He wastes no time, stripping himself of his overly confining trousers and drags his balls up Louis’ body until he’s feeding the smaller boy his cock inch by inch. Louis mewls around him and Harry almost loses it when he looks down. Louis’ cheeks are perfectly hollowed showing off Louis’ already sharp cheekbones, and his lips are swollen around the base.

 

“You little fucking cockslut,” Harry praises before he can think better of it. “Shit sorry, I dunno why I said—“

 

Louis cuts him off, only taking Harry dick deeper, hitting his fluttering throat now.

 

“You like that? You like me calling you a slut?”

 

Harry doesn’t let him answer just fucks into Louis’ throat with abandon. He feels Louis’ hand shift to touch his re-hardening cock, and Harry remembers what he’s supposed to be doing.

 

He would normally just fuck straight in with the spit from the blowjob as lube enough, but this is Louis’ first time, and while this isn’t exactly romantic, it is incredibly special. His spreads lube liberally all over his dick, feeling the vein on the underside pulse. There’s no way he’s gonna last very long, but he’s gonna try his damnedest. He’s gonna make Louis come at _least_ one more time.

 

“Fuck me.”

 

Harry does just that, pressing the fat head of his cock against Louis’ flushed and abused little hole until he breaches it.

 

“Come on, don’t place nice, give it to me.”

 

And that’s all Harry needs until he slides in to the hilt, balls deep in the best fucking ass this side of the Atlantic.

 

“Fuck me, Harry,” Louis says like he can’t shut up. Harry knows the feeling, every thrust bringing new and dirtier words from his mouth.

 

“I’m gonna give it to you, Lou, fuck you just like you deserve. Gonna give you the real thing, I know you’ve waited for so long.”

 

Louis wails, fucking back onto Harry’s cock in earnest.

 

“Yeah, Louis give me your hungry hole, you nasty fucking whore.”

 

Harry doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, just knows that he’s gonna come. He watches his rock hard cock slide in and out of Louis’ perfect arse, then back up to Louis’ face where he’s biting his lip and looking down at his mess of cum from earlier.

 

Louis swipes his hand through it and feeds it to Harry before joining him at his fingers, sharing his release, Louis sucking desperately at Harry’s tongue trying to taste the last of himself.

 

Harry fucking loses it. He comes pressed deep as he can before releasing, giving short little pumps. It feels like he never stops coming.

 

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” Louis commands, grabbing hold of his messy dick and grinding back on Harry’s still-hard cock.

 

It’s almost too much, but it’s so fucking perfect that he doesn’t care.

 

“That’s it, Louis. Show me how you make yourself cum. Do it while I stir around my cum in your arsehole.”

 

Louis looks him right in the eyes, dead fucking serious as he shoots his load all over both of them, shaking as he looks down at the mess he’s making.

 

He’s still coming as Louis uses the hand not stroking himself to taste himself yet again, and Harry is really gonna need to explore this kink in further detail at a later date.

 

For now though he waits for Louis to finish and pulls out, falling onto Louis uncaringly with his dead weight.

 

Louis doesn’t seem to mind, wrapping his dirty hands and sweaty arms around Harry’s spent body. He smells like sex, and it’s so, so good.

 

***

 

They’re watching the sunrise on the veranda and it’s so peaceful. The massage Harry is giving him is no doubt contributing to the feeling; Louis feels himself truly relax for the first time since they’ve started this break. Maybe for the first time in years.

 

He leans his head back onto Harry’s shoulder and closes his eyes, focused on Harry’s soft breaths.

 

“I wanna take you on a date,” Harry tells him, and Louis spins around so fast that he cricks his neck and completely negates the massage.

 

“You what?”

 

“You heard me.” Harry smiles, easy as anything, like he hasn’t just blown the lid off Louis’ whole world.

 

When he doesn’t say anything, Harry frowns.

 

“Would—would you not like that?”

 

“No! No, I would very much like that!”

 

Harry smiles again and Louis is so fucking happy he could burst.

 

They both ignore the shared knowledge that their contract is still intact for another couple of years, basking in each other for as long as the day will let them.

 

It’s really only a small price to pay, a little bit longer to wait.

 

Harry inquires about the panties later that day, and wow, Louis is _so_ fucking gay for him.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii, and thanks for reading. Drop me a comment. Positive feedback and concrit welcome!! :) 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://louisfuckedup.tumblr.com/)


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